


23 Emotions The Ghostbusters Feel But Can't Explain

by jeannigrace



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F, implied pining, they're all in love and i'm in love with their love, they're soulmates and you'll have to pry them from my cold lifeless ghost hands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-19 01:11:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8183116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeannigrace/pseuds/jeannigrace
Summary: Inspired by the 23 Emotions We Feel But Can't Explain.

  Erin rehearsed this conversation so many times she was sure she could handle it now if she walked into a room and found the woman she'd once thought was her soulmate sitting there.





	1. Jouska

**Author's Note:**

> Totally unedited, so, that.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jouska:  
> (n) A hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head.  
>  _Erin rehearsed this conversation so many times she was sure she could handle it now if she walked into a room and found the woman she'd once thought was her soulmate sitting there._

Erin always rehearses it in her head while she waits for her students to filter in. And when she stands in front of a blank whiteboard. And when she walks up the steps to her apartment alone. She's run through it so many times in her head that if she walked into a room and found Abby sitting there she's sure she'd know what to say.

If she walked into a coffee shop, say, and Abby was sitting there on a couch, with a latte – no Abby never drank lattes that's just silly – with a cup of black coffee, eyes shut, letting the drink steam her glasses up, Erin knows exactly what she would say. She would march right over and tell Abby she hopes she's well and then maybe Abby would say she was well and she hoped the same for Erin – oh this is nonsense. Abby always took her coffee to go.

So if she walked into a lecture and found Abby sitting next to the only available seat. She'd have to sit in it. She'd have to tell Abby about her new life, new job, new boyfriend if you could call Phil that. She'd tell Abby about her cousin Gemma getting married, Abby always liked Gemma, and about the plant she'd just bought for her office. But a lecture doesn't give much opportunity for conversation.

If she walked into the dentist's office and there was Abby, flipping through Popular Science and snorting at the oversimplifications. Erin would walk right over and sit next to her. _Hello Abby_ , she'd say. Abby would be startled, she always got engrossed in magazines. _Hello Erin,_ she'd say back, _I hope you're well_. Erin would set her purse on the floor between her feet and tell Abby _I am. I'm tenure track and I just bought a plant for my office. It's a philodendron._ Abby would smile a little at that and say _Oh, your mother always loved those. How is your mother?_ Erin would tell her about her mother's new job, her new home in Connecticut, and ask after Abby's mom. She wouldn't let on that, since she was still Facebook friends with all of Abby's siblings, she already knew exactly what was happening in Dr. Yates' life. No, this was silly, Abby would never make her dentist appointments at the same time that Erin did; Erin made morning appointments and Abby was a lunch break filling kind of woman.

So it would have to be something else. Maybe she'd run into Abby in line for a movie at their favorite movie theater. But she'd moved to a different neighborhood and didn't go to the Alpine anymore. She didn't even know if Abby still lived in Bay Ridge.

Maybe she'd be sitting in a restaurant waiting for Phil to come back from the bathroom and Abby would walk in. Would she be alone or with friends or with a woman? Alone, Erin thought, it worked best if they were both alone. Abby would come to her, walk right up to Erin, march almost. She'd say _Erin I haven't seen you in years_. There would be bitterness in her voice – Erin couldn't kid herself about that – but she also imagined there would still be that signature Abby warmth. Erin would look Abby straight in the eyes and say _It really has been years. How've you been?_ Abby would shift from foot to foot and tell her _I'm doing a postdoc_ or maybe _I'm leading a research lab_ or maybe _I've decided to become a dog groomer instead of pursuing paranormal studies_. Erin would blink a few times and ask if she was serious about that one. Abby would laugh – would it still make Erin feel like her innards had been replaced with cotton candy and her brain was going to roast? – and tell her _no, of course not, I couldn't give this up_. Phil would come back then and Erin would introduce him. He and Abby would shake hands and Abby would discreetly flex her hand afterward. She'd say something like _Have a good night, tell your mom I said hello_ and find her own table. Erin wouldn't tell Phil anything about Abby, but Phil probably wouldn't ask.

Erin rehearsed this conversation so many times she was sure she could handle it now if she walked into a room and found the woman she'd once thought was her soulmate sitting there. She'd be polite. She'd ask after Abby's family. She'd leave an opening to a future conversation. Something like _we should get coffee_ or _I'll text you_ or _you should come see my new office_. She's sure she wouldn't blurt out _I love you_ or _you're still the most interesting person I've ever met_ or even _you were the center of my universe and I'm still spinning off kilter but I needed to find out if I could be the center of my own universe_. She's sure.

 


	2. Onism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Onism  
> (n) The frustration of being stuck in just one body, that inhabits only one place at a time.
> 
>  
> 
> _In grad school she'd toyed with a machine that would imitate the benefits of eight hours of sleep in only twenty minutes – letting her stay up for the rest of those eight hours working or kissing pretty girls – but that wasn't the same as having more than one body._

  Holtzmann always had seven projects going at once. Eight if it was a good week. She could jump from one to the next without a stop in the middle, tightening a screw, reworking a circuit, drawing a new blueprint. She added stabilizers and tinkered with Faraday cages while her legs moved to the music pounding from the stereo. She could do three projects at once and dance her way through them, but it wasn't enough. She wanted to split herself in two, or three.  
In grad school she'd toyed with a machine that would imitate the benefits of eight hours of sleep in only twenty minutes – letting her stay up for the rest of those eight hours working or kissing pretty girls – but that wasn't the same as having more than one body. If she had more than one body she could work on more projects, and she could kiss all three of her girlfriends at once. 

   Erin did not support this idea. Holtz brought it up once while they were snuggled up close on the couch watching Holtz's guilty pleasure show. “What if I split myself into three Holtzmanns? I could do so much more in a day if I was three of me.” Erin had paused, fingers still wrapped up in Holtz's hair.  
“Are you talking about cloning yourself?”  
“Maybe. But cloning seems inefficient, you have to start with a baby and by the time that baby grows up all the projects you were working on are finished and you're on to new projects.”  
Erin picked up playing with Holtz's hair again. “So if not cloning then how would you do it?” Onscreen one real housewife threw her drink on another. Holtz chewed on her necklace for a minute.  
  “Subatomic cellular duplication.”  
  Erin sighed. “That sounds like cloning.”  
  Holtz shifted her weight on Erin's chest and looked up at the taller woman. “If I do it first I get to name it. And I won't name it cloning.” Then she turned her eyes back to the tv just in time to watch a catfight.  
  “Holtz that's not how...are you messing with me?” Holtz flashed her a grin and focused back on the tv.

  Abby, on the other hand, was all for it. They were in the tub when Holtz brought it up, Holtz's fingers working conditioner through Abby's thick hair. Bubbles floated between and around them. “What if I could split myself into three?”  
  Abby turned just enough that she could meet Holtz's eyes. “How?”  
  “On a cellular level, if I can isolate the growth factor that creates such rapid reproduction in cancer cells, figure out a way to tune into that, then I can reproduce all the cells into an entirely new Holtzmann.” She untangled a tough knot and rubbed at Abby's scalp.  
  “Sounds like you'd need a biologist.” Abby traced circles over Holtz's thigh in the water. “I know a few, we could call them.”  
  Holtz placed a gentle kiss on Abby's shoulder. “Are they cute?”  
  “Not at all. Very ugly. Caricatures of movie monsters.” Abby felt Holtz's chuckle reverberate through her chest. “But they are brilliant.” She shut her eyes and leaned back against Holtzmann.  
  “Maybe I'll just build an android.”

  Patty fell somewhere in the middle. But maybe that was partly because of when Holtz mentioned it. They were crouched behind a dumpster in an alley off fourth avenue, trying to hide from Kevin, when Holtz leaned over. “If I made another Holtzmann do you think she'd be as cute as me?”  
  Patty raised an eyebrow and glanced over her shoulder. “Are you suggesting we have a child?” Holtz snorted. Patty glanced around again and shushed her.  
  “No, if I could make another me, or three maybe, do you think they'd be exactly identical or would I be the superior Holtzmann?”  
  Patty shifted away a few inches. “You are inimitable. No one could ever be another you, not even a clone.” She stroked Holtz's gloved hand.  
  “No, not a clone, a duplicate. Another me so she could work on the machines when I wanna be kissing you.” Holtz turned her hand over to intertwine her fingers with Patty's. Patty chuckled and closed the inches between them. Her lips found Holtzmann's easily, like muscle memory. Holtz slipped her fingers from Patty's to grip her jacket instead, pulling her even closer.  
  They were both breathing hard when they separated. Holtz leaned her forehead against Patty's and let her mouth perk up into a Cheshire cat grin. “Or Erin, or Abby.” Patty poked her in the chest. “Erin thinks it's just cloning, but if I do it first I get to name it.” Patty stretched and bumped into something hanging over the top of the dumpster. The thing tumbled down onto her lap and she shoved it away toward Holtz. “Ah, a mannequin arm. That gives me an idea.”  
  “Animated mannequins? No way baby. I saw enough of that in the theater.” Patty shook her head.  
  Holtz smirked and tucked the mannequin arm behind her. “Would you be able to tell the difference?”  
  Patty tucked a wild curl behind Holtz's ear. “Absolutely.” Holtz kissed her again, eyes fluttering shut, and Patty wrapped a hand behind Holtzmann's neck. “And baby,” she whispered against Holtz's lips, “I am not kissing a robot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emotions sourced from [here](http://iheartintelligence.com/2015/06/07/23-new-words-for-emotions-that-we-all-feel-but-cant-explain/).


	3. Nodus Tollens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nodus Tollens  
> (n) The realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore.
> 
>  
> 
> _"How had she ended up with a mad scientist who would bring her coffee when she noticed that Patty looked a little tired? Or a theoretical physicist who would curl up on the couch in Patty's arms when she needed to talk out an equation? Or the most enthusiastic paranormal researcher in the entire world who also happened to give the best massages after a long day hitting the books?"_

Patty put her feet up on her desk and took a long drink of her coffee. They had the firehouse windows open in the cool New York autumn and the breeze brought the scent of rain inside. She wasn't sure exactly when Holtzmann had started bringing her coffee in her favorite mug – almost as big as her head – but she appreciated it. Across the room the engineer had a bouncy 80s pop song playing, and downstairs Patty could hear Abby and Erin arguing about a proof.

She had always thought her life was boring. She worked hard in school, got good grades, went to college, had a hard time finding a job with a history degree, got a stable job at the MTA, and did her best to bring some brightness to her booth. She read all the nonfiction she could find, joined a book club, smiled at people on the train even if they never smiled back.

So how the hell had she wound up in a firehouse with two physicists and a woman who could best be described as a mad scientist? How had she become the chief paranormal historical researcher for the city of New York?

How had she ended up with a mad scientist who would bring her coffee when she noticed that Patty looked a little tired? Or a theoretical physicist who would curl up on the couch in Patty's arms when she needed to talk out an equation? Or the most enthusiastic paranormal researcher in the entire world who also happened to give the best massages after a long day hitting the books?

Patty sipped more of the coffee and rubbed her thumb along the mug's handle. She'd made it in a ceramics class a few years earlier that she'd taken with her cousin Belinda. They'd both made a new year's resolution to make their lives more interesting, but the only things they did were the polar bear plunge and ceramics at Kingsborough. And neither of them even liked ceramics.

Sitting in her booth in the subway, always with a book and post it notes and annotations, she never dreamed of this. She dreamed of going to grad school. She dreamed of becoming a teacher. She dreamed of writing a book of her own. But she never could've imagined this firehouse, this job, this reality.

Patty felt strong skinny arms wrap around her shoulders and turned her head up just in time for a kiss on the forehead. Sometime during her reverie Holtzmann had wandered over.

“I can practically hear the gears turning in your brain Patty Cakes,” she said, low in that tone that made Patty quiver. “Have you got a theory or are you just daydreaming about me?”

“Don't flatter yourself,” Patty said, setting her coffee down again. “I was just thinking about how I ended up here.”

“Destiny.”

“I don't believe in destiny.” Patty rubbed her hands over Holtzmann's. Holtz leaned in close again and pressed her lips against Patty's temple.

“I have a cousin named Destiny out in Jersey.”

“Destiny Holtzmann?” Patty raised an eyebrow.

“No, Destiny Martinelli, she's on my mother's side.” Patty felt Holtzmann laugh more than heard it. She turned her head up again so she could see her girlfriend's face.

“Well Destiny Martinelli didn't bring me here, baby.” She reached up to stroke Holtz's cheek. “But whatever did, I'm sure glad to be here.” Holtz landed a kiss on Patty's lips.

No, this wasn't something she could've ever dreamed, but Patty couldn't imagine a better dream now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come feel feelings with me on my tumblr xo-xo-j.
> 
> Emotions sourced from [here.](http://iheartintelligence.com/2015/06/07/23-new-words-for-emotions-that-we-all-feel-but-cant-explain/)


	4. Énouement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Énouement:  
> (n) The bittersweetness of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self.  
>  _If only she could tell the Abby of eight years ago, of five years ago, even the Abby of three years ago, how things would turn out. That everything would be okay. That they would be here, together, snuggled up into the night, again. If only she could tell that younger Abby to have faith, that Erin came back. Erin finally, finally came home._

Abby curled her arm around Erin's shoulders and kissed the top of her head. Erin snuggled against Abby's chest, breathing in the scent of her. If you'd told Abby a year earlier this was how it was going to be she would've spat her coffee out in your face. But Erin had come back. Erin, the love of her life, was here. 

_Eight years earlier, when she'd come home to their apartment to find the note on the fridge and Erin's things packed, and the sweater she'd bought for herself that Erin had promptly stolen to wear while teaching folded on the bed, Abby had collapsed on the floor and sobbed for hours. She hadn't seen it coming and she should have. Erin was always more anxious, always more worried about her position in life, always more likely to give up on the dream. But still, Abby hadn't seen it coming._

_She'd called in sick to work the next day, and the day after that, and then spent the weekend in bed until her phone rang. Abby had launched herself across the room to answer it – but it was only her mother. And then, hearing a voice who cared about her so much, loved her so much, wanted nothing but for her to be happy, she'd collapsed again and all the words tumbled out. All the fear, all the anger, all the pain, laid bare over the phone to her mother back in Michigan. Her mother, ever the pragmatist, had waited until Abby was done to tell her to take a shower, brush her hair, brush her teeth, and call back. They'd work it out together._

Abby breathed in the scent of Erin's hair and let a smile curl on her lips. After all this time Erin still smelled like Erin. She must still use the same shampoo and body wash she had since college. Lavender and peach, and a hint of the natural fresh Erin scent underneath. Abby stroked Erin's arm and Erin shifted in her sleep to bury her face further in Abby's chest. 

_It had broken her, and for months she just stumbled along. Her mother was a lifesaver then, and her sister Beatrice became the dumping ground for all the pain. Beatrice was in her own PhD program at Rutgers, and she probably spent a grand on train tickets to come see Abby every weekend. Beatrice took her grocery shopping and chattered on about her work so there was never a quiet moment. Beatrice found Abby a roommate to help with the rent, and Beatrice helped erect the ad hoc wall separating off the new roommate's space from the living room. Abby had never been so glad for her little sister in her life._

_In her darkest days during those years she almost hated Erin. Almost, but never quite could. She'd sit in a bar, flirt with a woman, and then tank it so she went home alone. The whole way she'd curse Erin, for breaking her heart, for leaving her so suddenly, for taking the part of Abby that knew how to love with her when she went. It went on like that for three years. Then she got fired._

Abby shifted in bed to look out at their bedroom – it still made her chest contract to be able to say that again, their bedroom – and the life that she and Erin were building together again. Erin had decorated their bedroom in shades of grey and lavender, hung photos and a framed blueprint of the first ghost trap. Above Erin's dresser she'd hung the photo of them from their high school science fair presentation. Even after all the time apart they'd been together more years than they hadn't. Abby tangled her fingers in Erin's hair and breathed her in.

_Technically she was not rehired at the end of her contract at St. John's. She told herself (and her mother and her brothers and most of her sisters) that she didn't like the long trek out to Queens anyway, but she was scrambling. She scrambled for two months until Beatrice emailed her a link to the job posting at Higgins. It was a two-year, and she'd have to teach three subjects, but it would pay her bills. She applied._

_Beatrice came the first week Abby was there to see the building and Abby's new lab. She brought a plant and Abby made it the centerpiece of her desk. Years later she'd call her time at Higgins her turning point but at the time it was just a stop gap. She didn't plan to stay long, so she didn't bring anything personal except the picture of her with her parents and all six younger siblings. Her first week she met an undergrad with such bright ambitions it made her sob in her lab for an hour after the class._

Abby's only contribution to the décor of their home was a photo of the team together that had been printed large on the front page of the New York Times. She'd cut it out and when Erin saw that, she'd emailed the reporter, who sent them a glossy 8x10 print. Apparently, she was a fan. Abby was content to let Erin decorate, let Erin put her touches to the room after all the years of purposefully empty rooms and photos tucked away in boxes. 

_It was only six months later that she met Holtzmann. Abby had come back down to the lab after a long class and found the blonde seated at the spare table, feet up, tinkering with some gadget. When she saw Abby, Holtz had dropped her feet. “You must be Dr. Yates.”_

_“Yes, and you are?”_

_“Dr. Jillian Holtzmann, engineering department.” She'd taken Abby's hand and kissed it. “It seems we're roomies.”_

_Holtzmann had taken Abby out for drinks that first night and quickly set up shop both in Abby's lab and her heart. She purred like a cat whenever Abby gave her praise, she listened intently to everything Abby had to say about Erin, and she made a functional PKE meter. What more could Abby want?_

_Erin. Abby could want Erin. And that became immediately clear when she continued tanking every date she went on for another year. Until she got drinks after one such tanked date with Holtzmann, kissed her, and woke up in the futon Holtz called a bed. Abby had picked her way to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, and looked at herself in the mirror. Was this what moving on looked like?_

Abby kissed the top of Erin's head again. If only she could tell the Abby of eight years ago, of five years ago, even the Abby of three years ago, how things would turn out. That everything would be okay. That they would be here, together, snuggled up into the night, again. She whispered “I love you,” into the top of Erin's head; she never missed a chance to say it anymore. If only she could tell that younger Abby to have faith, that Erin came back. Erin finally, finally came home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come feel feelings about the ghostbusters with my on tumblr at xo-xo-j.  
> Emotions sourced from [here](http://iheartintelligence.com/2015/06/07/23-new-words-for-emotions-that-we-all-feel-but-cant-explain/).


	5. Sonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonder:  
> (n) The realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own.
> 
>  
> 
> _In college, Erin and Abby had played a game whenever they were procrastinating. They'd search the crowds around them for someone who they deemed the protagonist, and they'd build a whole life story around them. Abby's was usually better, but Erin's was always more likely._

Erin lugged her duffel bag into a coffee shop, ordered a cappuccino, and sat with it by the window. Her hands were still shaking. She wrapped them around the hot coffee cup and took a deep, shuddering breath. 

It wasn't that she didn't love Abby – she did, really truly loved her in a way she didn't think would ever stop – it was just that they wanted such different things. Abby was so certain, so enthusiastic, so resilient. Erin wasn't like that. Erin wanted solid ground under her feet and a steady paycheck in the bank. Abby was comfortable with uncertainty in a way that Erin never could be. 

They'd balanced their graduate work with paranormal research, and then they'd balanced their working lives with it, for years. Abby was comfortable in that way, teaching in the morning, meeting with bright eyed undergrads at noon, and then spending long hours into the night on theorizing about ghosts and the barrier and the metaphysical world. Abby could sleep four hours, down a pot of coffee, and go. Erin would have a heart attack doing it that way. She was always asleep three hours before Abby, and she crept out of bed half an hour before. She already felt like she was living on the edge – writing their book, doing a post doc at NYU, teaching her own lectures for the first time – and it only left her more anxious than ever. 

So when her supervisor had tipped her off to the opportunity to apply for a full-time teaching position at Columbia she jumped at it. She didn't tell Abby until she was sure she'd got it. 

It wasn't that Abby wasn't supportive – she was – but Erin couldn't live in that world anymore. She couldn't keep her faith in the paranormal. She couldn't keep believing what just wasn't backed up by scientific evidence. She was a scientist, dammit, and she would not be swayed by anecdotal evidence. Even when it was her own anecdotes. 

Erin jumped a little as a teenager ran into the glass of the coffee shop's front window. The kid laughed and ran off again with his friends toward the corner. She shook her head lightly but a smile tugged at her lips. The coffee was still too hot to drink, so instead she leaned back in her chair and watched the people on the street. 

Across the street, at a bus stop, a couple sat on the bench avoiding each other's gaze. He had his arm around her shoulders and she leaned her head against him, but their hips and legs were as far apart as they could be. 

In college, Erin and Abby had played a game whenever they were procrastinating. They'd search the crowds around them for someone who they deemed the protagonist, and they'd build a whole life story around them. Abby's was usually better, but Erin's was always more likely. 

Abby would say this couple had just robbed a bank. That they were scared and cold and hiding money under every inch of their clothes. She'd name them – something outlandish like Marquez and Evangelina – and give them a great motive. Maybe they needed to pay for a baby's surgery. Maybe they needed to get their home out of foreclosure. Maybe they wanted to travel the world. Erin would've made up something more realistic – the woman had just been diagnosed with cancer or the man's mother had just died or they had to put their beloved ferret to sleep. Something that made sense. 

But today she didn't have to make up a story. She didn't have to make up a story because she knew that body language. It was the same way she and Abby had sat on their couch watching wheel of fortune after dinner for the last two months. It was the same way they'd waited for a dozen buses to go home when Abby had come to pick Erin up after work. It was the same way they'd sat waiting to get their flu shots. Abby had kept her arm around Erin's shoulders until Erin ducked out from under it.

They'd left the same amount of space between them in bed at night, Erin curled in a ball on one side and Abby clutching the blankets to her chest on the other. They'd sat on opposite sides of the table while they had breakfast and avoided each other's gazes just as well as the couple across the street. For months now she and Abby had left the set dressing up, but the lights were already out.

Erin didn't have to make up a story for the couple across the street. She didn't have to create some fiction about who they are and what they were doing. She didn't have to. They might be bank robbers who had cancer and a dead mother and a beloved deceased ferret. But probably not. Their own story was probably more interesting than that. More complex than she could've imagined, more mundane than Abby would've created. Their own story was as real and as hard and as beautiful and as complex as her own. 

Erin downed her coffee, wiped her face, and left the coffee shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emotions sourced from [here.](http://iheartintelligence.com/2015/06/07/23-new-words-for-emotions-that-we-all-feel-but-cant-explain/)  
> Come feel feelings with me on tumblr @ xo-xo-j

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at xo-xo-j if you wanna feel feelings about the ghostbusters with me.  
> The emotions are sourced from: http://iheartintelligence.com/2015/06/07/23-new-words-for-emotions-that-we-all-feel-but-cant-explain/


End file.
